Soul Society, West Seireimon—the Hakudōmon.
A handsome youth in a white yukata stared at the cloud-piercing wall of Sekki-seki that separated Seireitei from Rukongai.
Beside him loomed a giant holding a pair of axes shaped like the number seven.
"Halt. Present your gate pass if you wish to enter Seireitei."
The giant's voice boomed from above as the boy sized up the ten-meter titan.
"I am Jidanbō, guardian of this gate. No pass, no entry."
Jidanbō paused, eyeing the youth at his feet with a mischievous glint.
"Of course, you could try to knock me down and force your way through."
Glancing at the eager giant tightening his grip on the axes, then at the plain blade at his own waist, the boy hesitated.
He pulled a card from his robe.
Realizing he barely reached the giant's knee, he flung it upward.
"Let's see… Jay Censen, from West Rukongai, District 80. Reason for entry… new student at the Shino Academy."
Jidanbō stared in surprise.
It had been ages since a soul from the lawless 80th District had won entry to Seireitei.
Yet, he said nothing.
Hoisting the Hakudōmon with his massive back, he waved the boy through.
"Off you go."
With a quick thanks, Jay stepped past the gate into the heart of Soul Society—Seireitei.
Glancing at the address on his leaflet, he felt a tangle of emotions.
Six months ago, I was an ordinary Earthling; now I'm in Soul Society enrolling in the Shinigami Academy…
And the one who dragged me here was the Soul King himself.
This was no ordinary transmigration—he had been personally scooped up by the Soul King.
According to the King's lingering will, the balance among Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, and the World of the Living still held.
However, the future's "variables" had grown too few.
The world was a straight line converging toward a single end.
Not wanting everything to march toward a set conclusion, the King had hauled Jay from among countless worlds.
He had planted a "Hōgyoku-like" seed deep within his soul.
Similar, yes—yet it was more of a "controllable miracle."
It sensed the desires and patterns of nearby souls, guiding Reiatsu to evolve as needed.
But for now, it slumbered, waiting for Jay's own power and will to hatch it.
All Jay had heard was "Hōgyoku-like," with no clue what the cheat actually did.
Other travelers at least got grand rituals; he had skipped the process entirely.
Same face, but was this reincarnation or a body-swap?
He didn't even know the timeline.
Blame Kubo for writing cryptic poems instead of dates.
No wonder fans said the guy just draws manga; what does he know about Bleach?
Musing, he reached the Shino Academy in minutes.
Today was freshman orientation, and the streets bustled with hopefuls.
The only school that minted Shinigami, it promised graduates a cushy, decadent life.
As he queued, a daydream flared.
Some snobby noble would snarl that a street rat didn't belong, swing at him, and be felled by a casual flick.
Teachers would gasp, report to the Captains and old man Yamamoto, and the Gotei 13 would scramble to recruit him.
Which Captain would he pick when they fought over him?
Sigh—being a genius is troublesome.
"Excuse me, you must be Jay Censen, sponsored by Lieutenant Ōmaeda Shinozuke of the Second Division. This way, please."
The receptionist shattered his fantasy.
Right—Ōmaeda's father had spotted him on a mission to the 80th District, tagged him as a prospect, and brought the find to Yamamoto.
The old man had trekked out and taken him as a personal disciple—he was practically half-nobility now!
Besides, guards were everywhere; such crass scenes only happened in novels.
Reading too many power-trip stories had poisoned his expectations.
Following the upperclassman inside, he found tiered desks and a blackboard—just like university.
Familiar surroundings tugged his eyelids downward.
"Sorry, excuse me."
A low, resonant voice snapped him awake.
He stood to let the newcomer pass.
"No problem—old habit; classrooms make me drowsy."
The stranger nodded politely and sat to his left.
Brown hair, black-framed glasses, and an air of calm intelligence—vaguely familiar, yet he couldn't place him.
"Hello. Aizen Sōsuke. Pleased to meet you."
Catching Jay's stare, the man smiled and offered a hand.
"Jay Censen. Likewise…"
Embarrassed at being caught staring, Jay shook hands—until the name hit him.
Aizen Sōsuke.
Future Captain of the Fifth Division, Soul Society's greatest traitor, and Emperor of Hueco Mundo—sitting right beside him?
Suddenly, staying awake in class was guaranteed.
"Oh?"
Aizen gently withdrew his slightly crushed hand, pushing up his glasses.
"This is our first meeting, yet my name surprises you, Jay-kun."
"Could you tell me why?"
His voice invited trust—if you didn't know better.
"Uh, you share a name with a friend I had back in the World of the Living. Mistook you for him."
Jay shrugged it off.
Every soul kept memories of life; the excuse held.
And with his own cheat, why fear Aizen?
Heh—why not make Aizen submit now, before the Hōgyoku ever exists?
"I see."
Aizen smiled, disbelieving but amused.
"Then fate seems to have paired us."
He could read lies in a person's posture and breath.
He knew Jay's shock had come from matching the name to the face.
So much for a quiet life at the academy.
Yet, Aizen had no idea that inside this boy from the 80th District slumbered the Soul King's personal "variable."
From this instant, the world's track had already shifted.